The One He Doesn't Love
by Go Make Me a Sandwich
Summary: Not Romano. No, he didn't like Spain. His chest hurt right now, and Romano denied that his heart was breaking. The tears ran down his cheeks and curved down his throat. He had no feelings for Spain and this wasn't his heart breaking.
1. Chapter 1

Romano walked quickly out of the meeting room, thoughts racing.

Stupid Spain. Stupid, stupid, moron Spain. That tomato bastard better understand, he wasn't going to date Feliciano. No way was he going to let the bastard take advantage of his little brother. It was the only reason. Really! It wasn't that he liked the stupid tomato bastard.

He was the farthest person he could like. Spain was always smiling like a dumb-ass. It annoyed the hell out of Romano. As well as always telling Romano that he looked like a tomato when his face got red. Or hugging him when Spain knew he didn't like hugs. Sometimes even pulling his hair curl because he thought it was funny. Bastard! Even Spain's pervy friends were bastards. It was fucking annoying when Spain called him Lovi. What really annoyed him was when the tomato fucker would say Feliciano was "soooo cute~!". How Feliciano's smile seemed to brighten a room. His dumb-ass brother's voice was like a sweet melody. His eyes twinkled like the fucking stars! Which perfectly fucking complemented that angelic fucking face that was so fucking cute! The very presence of fucking Feliciano made the fucking bastard's heart tighten and then melt!

What the hell was up with Spain's creepy obsession with his little brother! What the hell was so fucking great about him? How can Spain love him so much? His brother was fucking annoying! Spain was fucking annoying! He just had to fall for his little brother! Not someone else, someone who wasn't Feliciano, maybe another brunette...

Not Romano. No, he didn't like Spain. His chest hurt right now, and Romano denied that his heart was breaking. The tears ran down his cheeks and curved down his throat. He had no feelings for Spain and this wasn't his heart breaking.

Romano let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and impatiently pressed the elevator button. It didn't seem to come down fast enough. He stepped in once the silver doors opened and he remembered what Spain had told him in the meeting room.

_"Lovi, can I ask you something? Por favor?"_

The Spaniard seemed serious for once. He had grabbed one of Lovino's hand, which laid on the table.

_"I think I'm in love with a certain Italian and I want to tell him."_

Lovino had frozen in place. He remembered how Spain had blushed and looked down shyly.

_"I wanted to ask you how I should go about telling Feli. I want to tell him in a special way. I don't think I've ever felt this about with anyone but him."_

Romano remembers the smile Spain had on. It was timid but had so much joy to it. His emerald eyes seemed dreamy as he had thought about Feliciano.

All Romano could do was growl. He had pushed the Spaniard out of his chair and left. He couldn't muster out an insult. He had felt like he was suffocating. He had felt his hands shaking and his heart racing. What was wrong with him?

The Italian stepped out of the elevator and was glad his room wasn't far from it. His legs wobbled as he walked. He fell against his door, trying, with shaken hands, to produce his room card from his pocket.

Once inside, the brunette laid on the heavily pillowed bed, not even bothering to remove his shoes. He finally let himself break down. Spain loved Feliciano.

* * *

><p>Spain had texted him hours later asking why him why he was so mad. He loved Feli and Romano had to stop being so overprotective of the the younger Italian.<p>

Romano pulled out of the bed. He needed a drink. Now.

It would be better to just drown himself in alcohol then think about Spain. It would just make him think painful thoughts that would make his body ache.

The hotel had a bar right? Romano quickly changed into something other than the suit he still wore after the meeting. He took his phone, wallet, and room card as he left for the bar.

The World Conference was held in Paris this time. Great fucking place to go through a love crises. Romano cursed France, they just had to hold the conference in the stupid French bastard's home. It provided the perfect atmosphere for that bastard Spain to confess to Feliciano.

Romano quickened his pace towards the bar.

The hotel's bar was actually on the top floor. It was lightly lit and had some candles all around. The tables and chairs were a red mahogany wood and the walls were painted red. One side of the wall was just glass and you could see the Eiffel Tower, it was lit in pretty blue lights. It was a gorgeous view against the violet and pink sky as the sun set below the city.

The bar was half full with people. He could see some of the nations there socializing and having a drink after a long day of endless discussions about foreign policies. More like beating the crap out each other, the nations hardly talked out their problems.

Romano sat at the end of the bar. The bartender was a pretty little thing with short blond hair. The Italian gave her a charming smile as he ordered a bottle of wine.

"Coming right up cutie," the blonde said with a wink.

He would get really annoyed when Spain called him cute.

The bartender brought over the wine.

"Enjoy," she said with a smile and another wink. Her teeth were a pearly white and her lips were a nice pink color.

Spain had a stupid smile.

He poured the open wine bottle into his glass. It wouldn't be long till he emptied the whole bottle. Romano sat with his back facing the glass wall that poured in the light of the blue tower. He laid his chin on his arm, taking down more gulps of wine.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hello there dear reader. This is my first story. It will only be a few chapters long. If I made any spelling or grammer errors, don't be shy to point them out to me. Thanks a bunch!<strong>_


	2. Chapter 2

The blonde beauty's shift ended awhile ago. Now, Romano was stuck with some bastard with a pedo mustache serving him wine.

Spain was a really big pedo to Feliciano and him when Italy was under Austria and Spain's control.

Romano kept drinking. Even though he had downed two and a half bottles of wine. He was only slightly tipsy. The thing about being a nation, you weren't as vulnerable as humans, so it would take quite some time before Romano could be just as wasted as he wanted.

Quite some time was actually about five hours. By then, Romano was sure his blood alcohol level was around thirty percent. If he tried to stand up, he was pretty sure that he'd end up falling on his face. He was sure that even crawling would be difficult.

"Why hello there _cher_," came a heavy French accent.

Romano had his face buried in his arms. He tilted his head to peak at who was disrupting his self-pity.

"What do you want you French bastard?" The Italian's voice was a bit slurred from the wine.

"Must you be so rude, you wound me," France put on a fake hurt expression. He clutched the fabric of his dress shirt at his chest as if Romano had hit him there.

"Shut up bastard." It was barely understandable because Romano's voice was muffled by his arms and slurred due to the amount of alcohol he had drunken.

"I only came to see if you were alright," France sat beside the Italian. The brunette hardly noticed, what with the alcohol dulling his awareness. "I saw what happened in the meeting room with you and _mon ami_ Antonio." France's voice was calm and careful.

Romano stiffened.

"What do you mean? I don't remember anything happening with me and that bastard," Romano tried to feign ignorance.

"You know very what I'm talking about." France ordered himself a glass of wine as well from the the bartender.

"N-nothing ha-ap-p-pened," France's could clearly hear the trembling in his voice. As well as the not so clear soreness to it.

"I would have come to talk to you sooner _cher_, but there was something I had to do first," France smiled to himself at a private thought.

"Whatever wine bastard. There's nothing to talk about anyway," Romano shunned the glass and chugged from the wine bottle.

"You really are heart broken, aren't you _cher_?"

Romano gripped the neck of the bottle but said nothing.

"That's a very expensive, tasteful French wine. You shouldn't be gulping it down, you should be savoring the taste more."

"Shut up," Romano spat coldly. He finally pulled his head out of his arms. He swayed a little as he sat up. "Why aren't you molesting me already you fucking wine bastard? I'm assuming that's why you're fucking here. I'm fucking vulnerable as shit so you could have your way with me if you wanted to you pervert."

This was France after all, hardly anyone could have a decent conversation with the French perv without him trying to either molest you or seduce you. Romano surely knows this was the longest conversation he has had with the Frenchman without it happening.

France smirked. "I suppose I could, couldn't I? But I won't."

"Why not you bastard?" Romano was curious. No fucking way would the blonde miss the opportunity to molest any of the nations, especially if they were drunk and vulnerable. Was this guy really France?

"I only came here to help you."

"I don't need help because I don't have a problem you French bastard!" Romano growled.

"I know full well that you do have a problem and his name is Antonio."

Romano felt a tight squeeze in his chest at the mention of the Spaniard once more. "J-just...go away." Romano's voice was quiet and pained, France could hear the tears coming.

The Frenchman patted the Italian's back gently. Romano didn't pull away, the comfort was soothing, even if it was the French bastard.

"At the end of the meeting, I was actually behind you both a little way's off. I was actually speaking to Arthur," the blonde smiled a bit. "At first, I thought Antonio was actually confessing to you by the way he was holding your hand. But, I was clearly wrong when you pushed him off his chair. Most who saw it thought it was just you abusing _mon ami_ Antonio once again. Though, I saw the truth in your eyes when you pushed past me to get the doors."

France paused. Tears seemed to be building up in Romano's eyes again.

"Being the country of love, I clearly knew about your feelings toward _him_," France was careful not to bring up a certain Spaniard's name, it seemed to pain the Italian when he heard it. "I never brought it up with _mon ami_ because I thought he would eventually figure it out. He just seems so oblivious."

"The tomato bastard is a fucking dumb-ass."

"Don't be so harsh," the blue-eyed nation commented. "Though, I am incredibly surprised and disappointed with him. Have I taught him nothing? Anyways, he came to me after to ask for advice on something."

France knew by the way Romano's body twitched that the Italian knew where he was going. The blonde sighed.

"I didn't quite advice him about it, I had to attend to something else. However, at that moment, I realized something."

The brunette beside him looked him in the eye. "What would that be bastard?"

"No one should keep their feelings in the dark. They often seem to be dimly lit to us. No matter how much we deny it, we faintly see the love we hold for another. Especially when the one we love throws a flaming fire in our hearts, painfully breaking it, so we finally see through all those condensed shadows we've been building up."

The Frenchman took a sip of his wine.

"That's why, when you notice the dim light, follow it. It may burn you, but the pain is greater when you ignore it. That's why I decided to follow a dim light I've been ignoring."

The blonde turned his head and noticed a certain Brit sitting at an empty booth. It seemed that the green-eyed nation had yet to order himself alcoholic beverages.

"I'm not going to interfere in your problem. You have to work things out with him, it's never a splendid idea to have a third party when it comes to things as delicate as love. I only came to advice you, make sure he's really worth it."

With that, France finished his drink and walked toward his long time rival. The Englishman had started downing down some whiskey.

Romano sat at the bar. He pushed the bottle of wine away. He'd had enough.

* * *

><p><strong><em>It's only been a few hours since I posted the last chapie but I just really wanted to write this next chapter. It's about four in the morning right now, I think I should be heading to bed XD<em>**

**_I hope to write more tomorrow, or erm, later today. Once more, if you see any spelling mistakes, I'd adore you if you pointed them out for me. Well Loves, I must bid you good night for now._**

**_Please review. If you do, then I'll give you babes the special liberty of going to the kitchen to make me a sandwich! XD_**


	3. Chapter 3

Romano can't quite recall how he made it back to his hotel room. He was pretty sure he didn't get there himself, he passed out not soon after France had left him. Someone must have brought him back.

The Italian examined himself and the bed. There wasn't anyone there with him and by the way the bed was wrinkled, no one but him had laid on it. The clothes he had on last night still adore his body and he didn't reek of sex. The brunette thought himself lucky for not having the experience of waking up next to some creep after spending the night together. The person who brought him here, whoever they might of been, did decently remove his shoes and place his phone, wallet, and card key on the nightstand.

Though, he noticed that there was a smell coming from the kitchen. It smelt sweet and inviting, like a childhood home. Romano swung his legs over the side of the bed. He felt the affects of the alcohol rushing to his head at the moment. He rubbed both of his temples with his finger tips and slowly headed towards the room's kitchen.

At first glance, Romano noticed nothing. Then, what the hell? Who the fuck was that cooking on the stove?

"Oi! Who the fuck are you bastard?" Romano said with some grogginess. He continued to rub his temples but moved closer to the intruder.

He jumped at Romano's voice. The intruder was a smaller man with long blonde hair.

"Um, oh, hello. I'm Canada," he said quietly.

"Who?" Romano asked with confusion and irritation in his voice. "What the hell, aren't you America? Oi bastardo, get the hell out of my room!"

The Canadian gave a frustrated sigh, "I'm Canada, America's brother. You know, Canada, the nation above America. We're one of the most trustworthy nations in the world. Home of hockey, moose, and maple syrup."

"Whatever bastard, what the hell are you doing here? Get the fuck out!"

The violet eyed boy sighed once more. He flipped the pancake he was cooking. "France called me last night and asked me to bring you back to your room. He would have done it himself but he had something else to deal with that night. Good thing too, I think that guy Turkey almost took you back somewhere else. I think you were unconscious so you don't remember it. He had nearly carried you out of the bar, but I was able to pull him away from you with my hockey stick." He smirked.

Romano shuttered. He remembered that Turkish bastard. He had almost taken him over but Spain fought to keep Romano safe. Spain.

The Italian remembered why he was at that bar in the first place. He could feel himself get a little dizzy. His chest felt like it was pummeled to mush.

"Just leave bastard."

Canada looked up from cooking his beloved pancakes. He tried to give the other a small smile, "France said you looked like a kicked puppy that night. I can understand what he was saying."

The Italian growled at the comment.

"I understand where you're coming from," the blonde turned off the stove and brought the fresh stack of pancakes to the small table. Romano stayed where he was. "What with your brother being America, that loud voice will often overshadow the quiet one I have."

Romano looked at the smaller blonde.

"France only said I should make sure you got back safely," the Canadian grabbed one of Romano's wrists and lead him to sit down. "I just thought I'd help with the morning after. They're always the worst."

The blonde served two plates of pancakes. Romano stared at his stack of golden, soft cakes. He continued rubbing his temples.

"Here," he handed Romano some pills and a glass of water. The Italian gulped down the two.

"Thanks bastard."

Canada smiled. That was the nicest thing he has said to him thus far.

"Your welcome. Now," the blonde pulled out an industrial sized bottle of maple syrup from a paper bag off the counter. He brought it over and set it between them. Romano looked at the bottle with furrowed brows. "Eat some of these. They're pancakes and they always make everything better. Especially with maple syrup." The Canadian poured a hefty amount on his plate. "Here," he handed Romano the syrup, "pour it on your plate and try it."

Romano hesitantly took the bottle. Boy was the fucking thing heavy.

The Canadian watched closely as the other cut a piece of his beloved food and chewed.

Holy. Fucking. Shit!

Canadia's eyes lit up. The Italian was staring at his pancakes like they were gods. Food gods with beautiful powers that could give him a food orgasms.

The blonde giggled, "I told you they would make you feel better. They're only the greatest thing in the world."

The brunette took more bites out of the deliciousness that was Canadian pancakes.

"Maybe," he grunted. "But pasta is way fucking better."

"No way they can beat pancakes in deliciousness."

"Of course they fucking can bastard. They were made in Italia so it must be the most delicious!"

"So since pancakes were made in Canada, they aren't delicious?" The violet-eyed boy raised a brow.

"Just not as delicious. Have you ever tried Italian pasta? It's the fucking best bastard," the Italian growled.

Canada laughed. "I still say pancakes are way better. Where was pasta this morning? I know pancakes were here giving you a food 'gasm."

Romano laughed and Canada joined in.

"I could have had pasta for breakfast if you hadn't already made pancakes bastard," Romano said with a smirk.

"I don't care what you say. My Canadianess won't let up one up pancakes." The blonde shoved a mouth-full of the sweet breakfast into his mouth.

The Italian giggled. What the hell? He was giggling? Well whatever, this bastard was amusing and not half bad for a guy who's related to that dumb-ass America.

"Well, I'll just have to prove you wrong bastard. Come over for dinner tonight. I'll show you just how fucking delicious pasta is. So don't be fucking late! I want to prove you wrong!"

The Canadian smiled. Romano had a weird way of showing his gratitude.

"I swear if your even a minute late," Romano began.

"I'll be there," the blonde said.

"Good."

Romano smiled internally. Not that he would let this Canada guy know, but his presence really helped him forget Spain, even for a little while.

He thought back to what France told him. Was Spain really worth it? Was he really that important to Romano that he would put his heart on the line?

He continued to eat his breakfast, chatting with Canada about things he would forget later.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Hello there gorgeous readers. Here you are, a quick update! Because of Columbus day, I have a three day weekend and just seem to be in a writing mood. After that, I'm not sure how consistent my updates will be.<em>**

**_Just so you know, I calculated that this story will actually end up being about fifteen chapters, give or take._**

**_As a side note, I just want to tell you that this story was actually going to be like five chapters, but I want to build the plot up more._**

**_What do you guys think of Canada? I wanted to add someone to be Romano's crying shoulder. I just have a head-cannon for these two being really good friends. I was going to use Belgium, but then I thought that she was overplayed in most Spamano fics__. I wanted to do something different._**

_**As before, please review!**_


	4. Chapter 4

When Canada had come for dinner, he admitted the pasta was delicious, but it could not compare to his precious pancakes. Most of the night was just an argument of Pasta vs. Pancakes. Probably one of the most controversial topics of all time.

Romano ended up spending most of his time with Canada. He even sat next to the nation during the meetings and yelled at those who didn't notice him. Because, you're a noob if you don't see Canada, or a much more descriptive vulgar world Romano had used.

The conferences were held for a month, once a year. The nations had the weekends off and could return to their home countries if they desired for to, but had to be back for the meetings on Monday morning.

Romano had pretty much avoided Spain and his brother for most of the first week of the conferences. He found it easy to avoid Spain, but it was hard to keep his younger Italian brother away.

So, that first weekend, he decided to head to Canada with his new blond friend. He didn't want to risk meeting up with his brother in their home in Italy. He wanted time to think things through before he talked to Spain. Seeing his brother made that difficult.

Apparently, Canada wanted to head home to watch an important hockey match.

"Why do you wanna go home for that?" Romano questioned. "You could just watch it on TV from the hotel."

"Well," the Canadian answered. "It's way better seeing an actual hockey game in person."

"I don't see what's so fucking great about hockey."

Canada gasped, "It's only the greatest sport ever!"

"I don't know, football seems way better bastard."

Canada gave an annoyed sigh. They were both on Canada's private jet, on their way to the northern country.

"Can you stop calling me a bastard? You can call me Mathew if you want. I'd prefer it actually."

Romano blushed a bit. The only nations who called each other by their human names where those who were related, like him and Feliciano, or if they were close friends.

"Pfft, whatever. I can call you pancake bastard if I wanted to," Romano flicked the other's ear.

"Ow! Your so mean," Canada pouted.

"But," Romano looked the other way. "I guess you can call me Lovino if you want."

"Canada smiled, "What if I want to call you pasta bastard—Ow!"

Romano flicked his forehead and growled. Canada flicked the Italian back.

The two were basiclly slapping each other's faces by the time the flight attendant came in.

"Is there anything I can—" the woman stopped when she saw the two on top of each other, faces red.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

They quickly pulled apart. Canada gave an awkward cough.

"Um, no thank you," mumbled Romano.

"Just a bit of the maple syrup I keep on board," Canada smiled timidly.

The women went into the backroom and passed Canada a cup of maple syrup and quickly left.

"Um...truce?" Canada suggested.

"I guess so," Romano muttered. "I'll call you Mathew just as long as you call me Lovino. Don't fucking call me Lovi or any shit like that. I hate that."

Especially since Lovi was the name Spain always called him.

"Would you mind if I called you Love instead. I mean, if that's okay."

The Italian thought it over. Well it wasn't Lovi, so he supposed it was okay.

"Sure Mathew," he smiled at the blonde.

"Thanks Love."

They both smirked at one another.

* * *

><p>"I told you it was going to be great!" Mathew gave a huge grin.<p>

"Whatever bastard," Lovino shot him a smile as well.

"You have to call me Mathew, remember Love?"

"Pft, sure. Oi, what are we going to have for dinner, I'm hungry damnit."

The two were exiting the large stadium with a thousand other people. The game was fun to say the least. Lovino didn't expect to enjoy it that much. But he actually loved seeing the players race for the puck. He especially loved when one of the fuckers got pummeled against the wall or there would be a fight between the players. They beat the crap out of each other! He seriously wondered if all Canadians were this violent.

"Um, well, I can make something Italian if you want?

"That sounds okay," the brunette pulled up the collar of his jacket. The weather in Canada was fucking cold as hell.

"Wanna watch a movie as well. I have Netflix."

"Sounds good. But no damn American movies. They fucking suck."

Mathew giggled, "Alfred comes up with the cheesiest plots sometimes."

"He's probably just as stupid as Feliciano."

"Maybe," the blonde pondered. "Not as annoying though."

"I bet not, Feliciano is fucking annoying as hell."

"At least yours isn't an attention whore," the Canadian sighed. "He can be really egotistical sometimes."

"Everyone just seemed to always prefer Feliciano over me. Not that I care," Romano commented sadly.

Mathew put a hand on his shoulder, "I kinda prefer you to him. Well, if you didn't always curse. But you at least notice me." The smaller blonde gave him a sweet smile.

Romano smiled back. "Thanks."

"Your welcome. But remember, even if you have an overshadowing brother, he will always love you. I may be annoyed with Alfred sometimes, but he'll always have my back no matter what. I know I forget that sometimes."

The blonde smiled to himself.

"Hey," Lovino said. "Can I ask you something."

"I'm all ears."

* * *

><p>"Ludwig~! He still hasn't called! What if he hates me! I can't have him hate me! Or what if he's hurt! What if he's hurt and can't call for help! He could be dead! I don't want him to die! He hasn't told me why he hates me! What did I do! He has never done this before!"<p>

"Italy!" The German yelled at the smaller man. "You need to calm down and not over react."

"Bu-but, he hasn't—"

"He'll call. Whatever's bothering him, he needs time to figure it out. I'm sure he'll call you. It's only a matter of time."

"Do you really think so?" Italy asked with hopeful eyes. "Does he hate me?"

"He doesn't hate you. Just wait patiently."

"Thank you Ludwig," the Italian hugged the other. The German blushed.

"Big brother Spain says he's been avoiding him too. I wonder why?"

"I'm not sure, but Italy?"

"Uh-huh."

"Get the hell out of my bed! How in holy hell did you even get in my room!"

* * *

><p>"Where did you say he was?" Antonio asked.<p>

"He's in Canada, with _mon cher_ Matthieu," responded Francis.

"Why?"

Francis walked into the bathroom to look himself over. He left the door open and continued talking to Antonio, who sat at the edge of the bed.

"He and Matthieu have been spending a lot of time together as of late. Apparently, they've become close friends."

Antonio bit his lip.

"Does this bother you _mon ami_?" Francis returned to the room, with his hair tied back with a blue ribbon.

"I don't think so."

"Think about if it does," Francis put on a black jacket. "Now, I really must be going, I have a date."

Antonio frowned, who was this Mathew guy Lovi was with?

* * *

><p><strong><em>Well, this'll be the last chapter I'll post till about Friday. So don't expect an update for tomorrow and special thanks to qqsha, if I could, I would message you! Your reviews are always so sweet!<br>_**


	5. Chapter 5

"Do you know what you're going to tell him?" Asked Canada.

Both him and Romano were in a taxi, on their way to the conference at the hotel. They had just arrived from Canada that early Monday morning. They would just have to rush to drop off their bags in their rooms before rushing down to get to the meeting on time. They had not expected their flight on Sunday afternoon to be delayed because of some bad weather. It was not until late in the night that they could finally leave.

"I'm not sure," Romano furrowed his brows.

He didn't quite know if he was ready. The reason why he had avoided talking to Feliciano was because he didn't want to accidentally snap at his brother because of Spain. If he even mentioned it to his brother, the younger Italian would just confront Spain about it. No fucking way did he want the tomato fucker knowing about this!

Hell, if he told Feliciano his feelings for the fucker, his brother would cry his eyes out for hurting the older Italian's feelings. The last thing he needed was his brother's pity. Screw Spain if he didn't like Romano! He'd be fine just by himself!

It's not like he loved Spain, it was just a stupid little crush. Nothing more. It was just a stupid, little, fucking crush. He didn't really like Spain that much, it's just, the Spanish fucker must have given him some sort of weird disease. The one that makes you think you're in love with the personification of Spain. Not because you actually liked when the personified nation. Or the way he smiled at you. Or when he called your name sweetly in a honey voice. Or defended and cared for you no matter what. Not even when he hugged you warmly. Especially not when he called you cute. Because Romano didn't blush of embarrassment or find it flattering at all. Spain was an idiot.

This was nothing more than a phase. A really fucked up and crazy phase. Like the time he had a crush on America, but that was another fucked up story. That he will never admit to damnit! No way he could like that bastard. He sure as hell didn't think the Spaniard was attractive either. No fucking way did he stare at Spain's body whenever he wore tight fitting clothing. Not true bastards! He doesn't even like that bastard. It's a phase. A fucking phase!

Romano then felt a stinging at his heart. A quiet little voice in the back of his subconscious then whispered into his ear, _then why had you cried? Why had your heart nearly dropped to the floor when he told you he loved someone else? Your brother at that. He's someone you constantly insult and say you hate. But why does your heart beat faster when he's near. Don't lie to yourself—_

SHUT UP! Romano cursed that small voice inside his head.

Why did it have to speak like it knew the truth to everything! Because it wasn't correct in its statements damnit! Screw it! Romano knew the real truth! Spain was an idiot and he wasn't going to let the bastard take advantage of his little dumb-ass brother who couldn't even tie his own shoe! He already had a hard time keeping that potato bastard away. Damn muscly German bastard.

Now he had two bastards to worry about; that potato fucker and that...that...Spaniard who didn't love him.

He felt the corners of his lips fall down. He shouldn't be frowning or feeling the slightest bit depressed because of of him. He shouldn't be wrestling with this idea any longer. But his mind couldn't escape it that easily.

"Love?" Mathew shook his shoulder.

Lovino turned to his Canadian friend.

"I've been saying your name for awhile now. Come on, we're here. If we don't hurry we'll be late."

"Yeah."

Mathew opened the cab door and paid the driver his half for the commute. Romano followed in step. Then they both grabbed their small bags from the trunk and quickly walked toward the hotel.

"Don't worry," Mathew said.

Lovino turned his his head to look at the blond as they walked into the lobby of the hotel.

"You can talk to your brother after the meeting," Mathew continued. "And don't worry about Spain either. Just focus on the meeting for now." The Canadian gave an encouraging smile.

"I'm not worried," Romano grumbled, but smiled back none the less. "Fuck!" The Italian noticed the clock in the lobby.

"What?" Mathew asked with concern.

"The meeting starts in seven minutes. We won't make it on time if we go leave our bags in our room."

"I don't think it'll be too bad if we're a little late."

"Yeah but my boss'll be pisses if I'm late to another meeting. I skipped a couple last time around."

Even though both their bags were small and no hassle to carry around, the meeting room was a dangerous place. You never brought anything of value in there, it would end up either broken or damaged.

"Oh! I know," the Canadian said. "There's a small broom closet near the conference room. We could leave our stuff there and get it afterward."

"Good thinking bastard."

"_Mathew_," the blond reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's just go before we're late," the Italian pushed the other male to walk in the direction of the conference room and to quickly drop off their bags in that closet.

* * *

><p>The meeting was a total success. Not. It wasn't as bad as other meetings they had, but it wasn't the best either.<p>

Romano got so fed up with the chaos at some point. He was pretty sure he would of snapped at someone had Mathew not been there.

To ease the Italian's growing annoyance, he suggested they play poker instead. He had taken out a deck of cards and Lovino suggest they use the skittles he had bought at the airport as tokens. Lovino swore the Canadian cheated, the little fucker was a killer at the game! How the hell did the bastard keep getting a full house! Cheating maple bastard!

But, the Italian was still amused by the game, it was rather...fun, he guessed.

It was quite an interesting game, somewhere along, the Italian had accidentally admitted to his friend that he loved the song Poker Face and was a huge Lady Gaga fan. That caught the Canadian by surprise, even if Gaga was Italian herself. He could not picture the raging Italian as someone who enjoyed songs sung by a woman who once wore a meat dress.

"Really!" the usually quiet blonde nearly shouted. He was pretty sure Lovino just set himself up for blackmail.

The Italian was blushing. "Yeah I like her music bastard! So shut up! She's fucking amazing!"

Mathew giggled, "I just never took you for a Lady Gaga fan, but," that Canadian's cheeks turned a rosy pink. "I don't think your the only one."

Lovino's eyes widen. "Really? You're not just screwing with me?"

"It's the truth," Mathew said sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

Was he really telling the truth? Then the Italian remembered a news story from a while back. It couldn't be? Well, it would make sense now.

"Wait," the Italian held up a finger. "Your full name is Mathew Williams, right?" The Canadian nodded. "What the hell? Wasn't Lady Gaga dating some guy named Mathew Williams before?"

The blonde blushed.

"You did, didn't you bastard? I knew it! You dated Gaga! How the hell did that happen!"

Mathew held his hands up defensively, "As I told Alfred a million times before, I didn't date Lady Gaga!"

The brunette glared at the other, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, sadly, that was another Mathew Williams," the Canadian sighed.

The Italian raised a curious brow, "Did you want to go out with her?"

Mathew pinched his fingers closely together, "Maybe a little."

Both of them laughed loudly. No one noticed the hysterical laughs of the two nations, as there was still much chaos happening all about the conference room. Though, a pair of green eyes focused his attention to the pair every now and then.

Lovino stopped laughing long enough to speak to Mathew.

"Your not the only one. But don't you dare tell anyone bastard," the Italian gave his friend a genuine smile.

* * *

><p>"Oi, bastard!" Romano called out.<p>

Italy turned to see his brother approaching him by where he was sitting with Germany. He was just waiting for the blonde to finish packing his papers. The meeting had ended without much progress. The conference room was a mess, Switzerland had broken a window, there were chairs knocked down, and paper shreds littered the floor. The hotel cleaning staff was going to be pissed.

Italy moved away from Germany and ran toward his brother.

"Fratello!" Italy launched himself at Romano, pulling the other into a suffocating hug.

"Bastard," the older Italian grumbled, "get off of me!"

"But Fratello," Italy let go. "Why have you been ignoring me! Where have you been? Were you lost somewhere? Do you hate me! Don't hate me please! Is it because I ate all the pasta last time—I could make more! Maybe it's because I don't tell you I love you enough! I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you! See~! I do love you! Maybe it's because you don't like my outfit! Do you hate it! That's why you hate me so much! I—"

"Damnit! I don't hate you bastard!" Romano tried to calm his brother.

"Then why have you been ignoring me?" Italy gave the other a sad look. He felt like he had upset his brother in some way, he just wanted to know what. Maybe he can apologize and make it up to him.

Romano sighed. He didn't want to tell Feliciano the full truth. No use making the other worry more.

"I've just been, just..." he sighed once more. "I just wanted...to spend time with a new friend. That's all damnit! Don't get so fucking melodramatic." Romano grumbled the last sentence.

"Are you sure Fratello?" Italy felt a bit of doubt in what Romano said.

"Yeah bastard, stop fucking worrying so damn much! I don't hate you and I'm okay. Just shut up about it," Romano said. Yet he saw how his younger brother didn't quite believe him.

"Fratello..." Italy whinnied. He grabbed onto Romano's arm, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just something Spain said. It was something fucking stupid, that's all," Romano could at least tell his brother this.

"What did he say?" Italy looked at him with pleading eyes. Fuck no! He knew that trick, he wasn't going to tell him!

"He—"

"Feli~! Lovi~! Where have you been?" Came the call of Spain.

Romano stiffened, but Italy opened out his arms to give the Spaniard a hug. The green eyed brunette embraced the other tightly and nuzzled his nose in the Italian's hair affectionately. Romano felt like stabbing someone with a blunt object.

"Oi! Tomato bastard, s-stop violating my b-brother!" Romano felt his voice shake a little. Damn Spain.

The Spaniard giggled, "But Feli likes Big Brother Spain's hugs."

As if to emphasize his point, the brunette nuzzled the bubbly Italian's neck. Italy laughed at the touch, it tickled him.

"Stop hugging him y-you p-p-pervert!"

"Don't worry Fratello, he's not doing anything wrong. Ve~" Italy turned to face Romano.

The Spaniard kept his arms wrapped around him, the younger Italian paid him no mind. He didn't mind the affection. Romano really wanted to shoot someone

"I like hugs," Italy said. "I give them to you all the time because I love you. I also do it with Japan and Germany all the time because they're my friends. Don't get mad with Big Brother Spain~"

"Bastard."

"Lovi~ you should talk with such a foul mouth," Spain playfully scolded. He hugged Italy tighter.

Why the hell hadn't the bastard let go yet!

"Oi! You can let go of my brother n-now!" Romano tried to keep his voice from shaking. Damnit!

"I don't wanna~ I like hugging Feli," Spain replied. Italy just giggled.

Fuck, just let go damnit!

"H-hey," came a small voice.

Romano turned to see Mathew. He stood there timidly.

"Hi America, ve~" Italy greeted.

"Um, I'm Canada," Mathew said with a sigh. Oh, will people ever learn?

A pair of green eyes focused closely at the blonde, studying him closely. They looked him up and down and already expressed disapproval by the way they peered at him.

Lovino looked at his friend. He could tell by the way Mathew looked at him, that the blonde understood what was happening, hoping that his presence could help the Italian.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Italy apologized with a bit of embarrassment. Spain let go of him.

"That's okay," the blonde looked at Lovino then. "Do you want to go grab our bags now?"

"Yeah, sure," Romano mumbled and walked away with his friend. "Thanks." He whispered it lowly under his breath.

Spain stared after them. Italy said he had to go because Germany was done packing up. He hardly paid the Italian mind but smiled at him. So that was Canada.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Why hello there, do you come here often? XD<em>**

**_That was my fail attempt at a pick-up line. Well, here you guys are, an update on Friday, as promised! Sorry if I couldn't update once I came home from school. I just felt like relaxing first, plus, this chapter is twice as long as the other chapters._**

**_Also, I think one of you asked if Canada was going to be the rebound guy. Well, I actually think Romano sees Canada as nothing more than a friend. If anything, Spain seems to think there's something going on._**

**_Well, I'll see when I'll post the next chapter, maybe tomorrow. I'm still not sure. I have like 3 projects to do this weekend D:  
><em>**


	6. Chapter 6

"...then he came in. Lovi didn't even seem to insult him! He even calls Feli mean names and acts really grumpy with everyone. But this Canada guy made Lovi laugh—and no one can make Lovi laugh! Maybe he has LOVI ON DRUGS! And you know what they say about drugs, they're BAD! Bad stuff is never good for you!" Antonio rambled on to his two best friends. Never do drugs kids, m'kay? Antonio will worry his pretty little head off.

Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert were in the hotel gym. They usually liked to work out together. It provided the perfect opportunity to show of their, as Gilbert said, "Awesomely sexy bods!". The albino spoke truth in that, they would often get stares from men and women alike. It was a sort of bonding the trio did to keep their bromance strong.

"Do you think they're dating?" The Spaniard asked with a frown. "Lovi is spending a lot of time with him. What if he's using Lovi? He looks really innocent, but what if that's just an act? He could really be a horrible, mean person out to get Lovi! He could be planning to kill him!"

"Antonio, dude," Gilbert put a hand on his friends shoulder. "You need. To calm. Your tits." The Prussian laughed a bit when the green eyed man blushed. "Plus, why the hell are you so concerned about that? The awesome me thought you were going to confess your sappy, undying love for Italy."

"Yes _mon ami_," Francis grabbed his water bottle and sat on one of the machines. "You haven't stopped talking about this since we left the meeting room. I can assure you that little Matthieu is harmless, he's not going to hurt your little Italian."

"Yeah Tonio. Birdie is awesomely kind. He once gave me a whole bitch load of maple syrup! No need to get your panties in a twist. Keseseses~" The Prussian laughed.

"I don't wear panties," Antonio pouted.

Francis chuckle along with Gilbert. Even little Gilbird seemed to cheep at his master's naive friend. Boy was the Spaniard oblivious to some of their jokes. He was also quite oblivious to people's feelings, even his own.

Francis calmed his laughter, "Enough about that dirty image of you wearing panties," he teased the brunette. "Your getting too overly concerned and making up assumptions. Shouldn't you be worried about setting up that special evening for you and little Italy? Isn't it him who your in love with? If it were me, I think I would be so blinded by my beloved that I would hardly care for anyone else."

"I just...Lovi shouldn't date Canada," Antonio grumbled, crossing his arms.

"It's not like you could stop him if he wanted to," Francis said.

"He doesn't like to be told what to do. Maybe he'd even want to date Birdie if you told him he shouldn't," Gilbert added on. "Maybe your just jealous Tonio."

Antonio frowned. He didn't like frowning, he wfound it an alien feeling "Maybe I just don't like Canada for some reason."

Gilbert and Francis gave each other knowing looks. Even after hinting aand trying to lesd the him in the right train of thought the Spanish man still could fnot igure it out. They both gave out frustrated groans. It'd be the end of the millennium before he would figure it out!

* * *

><p>Lovino followed Mathew down the hotel's hallway. After the meeting and...encounter, even though Mathew mentioned it, they both forgot to get their bags from the closet near the conference room. They had gone all the way upstairs to Lovino's room for some pasta when they realized their mistake. By then, both were too lazy to go back down. It was not until a few hours later that they finally pushed themselves to retrieve their belongings.<p>

"Here it is," Mathew pointed at the closet door. He opened it and Lovino followed him in.

The small closet was empty except for a mop, bucket, and a rack with some white hand towels. There seemed to be no trace of their bags.

"Shit!" Lovino cursed. "Some bastard stole our stuff!"

"Don't worry yet," Mathew tried to be optimistic, "the cleaning staff may have turned the bags over to the front desk. Let's go check."

"Those bastards better onotnof tolen my Ipod!"

They were going to exiting the closet when something caught Mathew's eye. "Wait a sec Love."

The Italian turned to see his his blonde friend pick something off the ground. The violet eyed boy giggled. The brunette wondered why, then he noticed that his friend was holding out what seemed to be a piece of red fabric for him to take.

"I believe this is yours," he placed it in Lovino's hand.

It was a pair of boxers that held quite a lovely design. The design of cute little tomatoes that had speech bubbles saying things like "I've got nice tomatoes~!" or "Wanna suck on this little red fruit?". Mathew laughing grew louder as he exited the closet and the Italian followed.

"Bastard! Don't you dare laugh! I-I swear its not mine!"

"Love, it has your name on the hem of it." The Canadian continued to laugh.

"STOP LAUGHING YOU BASTARD! I SWEAR I'M JUST HOLDING IT FOR A FRIEND!"

Mathew found Romano's reaction very amusing. As he continued laughing, the Italian's face kept getting redder.

"I TOLD TO STOP LAUGHING MAPLE BASTARD!"

"But your boxers are so amusing," the blonde received a glare from the other.

Damnit! The boxers must of fallen out of Romano's bag when he carelessly tossed it in there. He shouldn't of done so, he knew the zipper on his bag was broken and something was bound to fall out.

"I hate you," Lovino growled.

"Still doesn't change the fact that I saw those lovely pair of boxers Love," Mathew giggled. He found it really funny when when Lovino was mad for some reason.

Lovino would have surely smacked the Canadian's arm if his friend hadn't bumped into someone.

The Canadian slammed his head against a hard chest and fell back. Damn! It felt like he had walked into a wall! He rubbed his forehead and steadily looked up to see a familiar figure.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the violet eyed boy locked eyes with the man standing over him.

Spain looked down at the other with no shown emotion on his face. He fwanted to do more than just push the blonde down, but he couldn't with Romano there."Watch where your going bastard! Don't apologize to him Mathew! The tomato bastard should be the one apologizing for being an idiot with no coordination skills!" Romano extended a hand to Canada and pulled him up.

Spain turned to face Romano, "It wasn't my fault Lovi." He pouted as Romano made sure Mathew was alright. He was taking longer than the Spaniard thought was necessary to look over Canada. for any injuries" Lovi~!" Spain whinnied. The Italian ignored him and tried to walk off with the Canadian. "Lovi~!" Spain ran after them and tried to grab for Romano's shoulder.

The Italian slapped the hand away.""Stop calling me Lovi bastard! You know I hate that name!" Romano grabbed Canada's hand and pulled them both down the hall to the lobby.

Spain frowned deeply and his whole face seemed to show a mix of anger and sadness. He and the other two members of the Bad Touch Trio were going to the hotel dinner to grab something to eat when he realized he had left his phone in the gym. He had gone back to get it when he had spotted Lovi with that Canadian exiting a closet.

He was confused at 's face was red like a tomato, it was usually only him who could get that shade to stain the Italian's face. It would only turn that color when Spain would make an embarrassing remark or tease Lovi.

Then he heard it.

_"Still doesn't change the fact that I saw those lovely pair of boxers Love."_

Love.

He had called him Love.

Like you would call your lover.

Spain's hands clutched to fists. Canada had seen Lovino's boxers. And Lovino was blushing red. And Lovino seemed to care for him when he fell down. And Canada could make Lovino llaugh And he'd only ever heard Lovino laugh when Spain was Lovino grabbed Canada's hand when they walked away while he wouldn't even let Spain touch his shoulder!

This bothered Spain way too much! These were just simple truths! But he felt mocked by them.

Feli wasn't liked that. He always acted so cute towards him and smiled at Spain every time he saw the green eyed man. Never had Feli ever hurt him ,like when Lovino would punch him. He always says what's on his mind and gave you plenty of hugs and kisses. Feli made his heart race every time he saw the young Italian. He filled the Spaniard with warmth and affection. He brought a bright joy to the Spanish man that never faltered to raise a smile on his lips.

But, wait! Why was he comparing the two?

Still oblivious as always.

* * *

><p><em><strong>There you are my loves! I tried posting this before but my laptop broke D:<strong>_

_**So I stayed after school to post it, thank god my ipod let me type this on google docs, but it doesn't let me post the story.**_

_**Anyways, I don't know if I got the grammer and spelling all correct. And thank you sooooo much for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! They make me so happy :'D**_

_**Also, I read all your reviews and consider your ideas, I loved the idea of Canada calling Romano love, so I put it in. So don't hesitate to suggest something. Some of the stuff some of you have said I will put later on in the story. I won't be able to update this weekend, so I wanted to post this now. I'll try to get the next chapter up either in the middle of next week or the following weekend.**_

_**Hasta la pasta~!**_


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